Mexico weekly ledger., 1887-10-13

In New Orleans.

The singular dual life of the Crescent
City took vehement hold Of the i'm
agination of the old clergyman.
One one side of its great artery,
Canal street, is a powerful American
city, firmly established, fully abreast OF
the trade and industry of the time,
and clutching eagerly for its share OF
the commerce of the world. 1t is
vitalized now with an energy which.
if not pure Yankee in character, is
very closely akin to it
Here are miles of wharye5 heaped
with cotton and sugar thoroughfares
massively built, through which the
endless tides of human life ebb and
flow all day; magnificent avenues
stretching away out to the country,
lined with modern hotels, club-houses,
and huge dwellings, each flanked by
one or two picturesque towers, which
on inspection, turn out to be only
cisterns.
There is the necessary complement
of black shadow below these vivid high
lights. Poverty and Vice live more
out-of-dooIs in New Orleans than in
Northern cities. There they are,
barefaced, leering, always on the
familiar pave, to be seen and known Of
all men. Back of all signs of wealth
and gayety. too is the mud, a material,
clammy horror. The water, a deadly
enemy here, perpetually fought and
forced back, rushes in, whenever {
days rain gives it vantage, at every
creyice, floods the streets and clogs
the drains. 1t oozes out of the ground
wherever you step on it, drips dowr
the walls Ct your drawing room, stain:
your books a cOffee-color, clings tc
| you. chilly and damp, in your clothe;
and in your bed, turns the air Vol
breath into a cold stream, and washes
your dead out of their graves. =.
This Queen of tue South has soiled
and muddy robes" said Mr.. Ely; ''but
she is still a queen"
He delighted to stroll in the after
noon with the Colonel across Cana
street, to find this lusty American city
vanish suddenly, and to enter a quiet
French provincial town of the days Of
Louis XIV. Here was no stir, nc
clamor.
ssVoila la vraie Nouvelle Orleans!'
lisped little Betty, as she guided him
for the first time into the labyrinth Of
narrow streets branching off of L.
Rue Royale. 1t was her old home, and
very beautiful and dear to her.
Madame de Parras was confined to the
house with rheumatism, and was will
ing to trust her to the escort of hel
reverend friend. So the old man and
the girl, being about the same age
("as old as the Babes in Wood" quotll
Mrs. Ely). fell into the habit of stroll.
ing in the early morning or gathering
twilight through the network Of oddly
silent street, so narrow that the over
hanging caves nearly met over the cob
ble-stone pavements. Steep roofs,
scaled with earthen tiles and green
with moss, hooded dormer-windows
peeping out of them like half.
shut eyes, rose abruptly from one.
stOried houses. Here and there a
cobbler sat on his bench in the stree:
plying his anvil and singing to himself,
or o group Of swarthy, half-nakcd boys
knelt on the banquette. flinging their
arms about in a gambling game fol
pennies, and shrieking in some wild
dialect, half negro and half French.
Their walks usually ended on the
Boulevard Esplanade. Even that wide
thorougllfare fell into quiet in the
afternoon as the long shadows of the
trees lay heavily across it. Within
the close walls they could catch q
glimpse of the courts about which the
houses are built, the glitter of fountains
shaded by orange-trees and broad
leayed tropical plants. Sometimes q
jalousied window would be left open,
and they would catch the tinkie of q
guitar or the sound Of a woman's voice
singing.-ReGecca Harding Darts, IN
Harrer'S Magazine.